Read Between The Lines
by PandaFire McMango
Summary: Mimi overhears something between Collins and Angel that she never thought she would. Angel thinks Collins has accused of something she can't forgive, and he doesn't know what her problem is. Fluff and angst fic, I will state it right here. rated for lang.


**A/N:** Ah, AngelCollins--my own personal smack. I am a junkie twelve times over...ah, well. This has fluff in it, FYI. The Pandanator never fails to deliver on the fluff! (hums..._everyone's a little bit fluffy insiiiiide..._)

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Mimi had her hand on the door handle, just about to push it open and emerge into the back alley behind the Life Café for a much-needed smoke, when she heard the voices. For a moment she actually couldn't place them. Maybe it was the way they sounded—irritated and indignant and snappish—that made them seem so unfamiliar. After all, she'd never heard either Collins or Angel talk to each other like that. She had heard them bicker lovingly, fight without meaning it; but never actual discourse of this level between the two of them. 

"—hell is going on with you?" said Collins, his voice strained.

"I didn't think it was your responsibility to figure out what or what isn't 'the hell going on with me'," Angel retorted. Mimi, whose ear was pressed flat against the door in order to catch every word, could see Angel in her mind's eye, hands on hips and head cocked angrily to the side.

"It wasn't—at least not when you actually looked me in the eye. But ever since you came home yesterday, you've treated me like a fucking leper," Collins said accusingly. Mimi envisioned him too, his hands stuck deep in his pockets and shoulders defiantly thrust back.

"Oh, so it's about you now…I get it. This is about you wanting to feel appreciated or whatever you need for your ego. Well, I'm deeply sorry, but maybe there's more on your mind than making you feel all secure and cozy." Angel's voice had a bitterness to it that warped it beyond recognition. Mimi felt her stomach flip as the silence after Angel's last remark stretched longer and longer, becoming colder and colder. Finally Collins spoke, his voice no longer biting but uncertain and with a distinct feeling-his-way-in-the-dark quality..

"You came home late last night…really late."

"So? What does that have to do with anyth—oh my god." Angel sounded as though someone has punched her in the stomach. Mimi frowned as she wondered what had stunned her friend like that. At first she thought maybe Collins had walked away or motioned at her in some offensive away…and then she realized what he might mean when he brought up her lateness. Mimi's eyes widened and she almost missed Angel's next words, so low and disbelieving as her voice was.

"You think I'm…you thought I was…with _someone else_?" she half-whispered. For whatever reason, Collins didn't reply: which, in Mimi's mind, practically damned him.

"Well, fuck that," Angel suddenly snapped, and Mimi heard the pain behind her fury. "You could think that about me…I can't…no, you know what, _fuck_ that and fuck you, I'm not taking this anymore!" And before Mimi could register what she'd said and disappear, the door banged open (she did manage to move away in time to avoid getting smashed in the face) and Angel stormed through it, cold rage glittering through the tears in her eyes. She might not have noticed Mimi if, in her ruthless hurry, she hadn't slipped on an old magazine. Trying to regain her balance, Angel grabbed out for something to steady her—and caught hold of Mimi's arm.

For a moment, she just stared at her. Mimi didn't dare to breathe, because if she did everything would start moving again and Angel would almost certainly yell. But when she finally did breathe, Angel didn't yell. In a strangled voice, she said, "Goddamn it…_goddamn_ it!" And before Mimi could speak herself, Angel threw her arm aside and ran up the stairs, turning the corner and slamming the door that led into the Life Café as she went through it.

" Angel!— Mimi?" Mimi whirled and saw Collins standing in the doorway, his expression rapidly changing from one of anger to one of shock. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I…I came down to smoke and I heard…I didn't want to interrupt…" Mimi said lamely, trying not to actually admit that she'd been shamelessly eavesdropping. The whole thing was doubly embarrassing because she hadn't just overheard something normal or even funny: if she'd been listening to them say embarrassingly lovey-dovey things to each other, it would all be fine. But she'd probably heard them arguing worse than they ever had before, and the discomfort of that was practically tangible. Mimi looked at the pain that was slowly being hidden in Collins's eyes and felt her stomach twist again.

When they both got back up to the Life (walking in total silence) everyone looked up sharply as they entered. But when they saw them, no one spoke; they only stared as though both Mimi and Collins were holding semiautomatics. Awkwardly the two of them sat down: Mimi at a table with Roger, Maureen, Mark, and Joanne, and Collins at a shadowy corner of the bar. Slowly the silence around them lifted, though Mimi could feel people glancing at her from across the room. Trying to ignore them, she turned to the people who sat around her, also trying and failing not to look at her.

"Why's everyone staring?" she asked, trying to act nonchalant. Maureen glanced at Joanne, whose lap she was sitting on, and Mark caught Roger's eye. No one said anything.

"C'mon, what's up? What'd we do?" Mimi asked a little louder. Roger winced at the volume in her voice, and Mark started twisting a napkin between his fingers.

"Well…it's just… Angel came up through here before you guys and she looked terrible," Maureen said tentatively. When Mimi didn't say anything, she went on. "I mean, she was crying and practically kicking shit over while she was trying to get out. And then about five seconds later, you both come up here…it sorta looks like whatever's biting Angel might have had something to do with you."

Mimi snorted and closed her eyes. She remembered the way Angel has gasped when Collins had almost accused her of cheating on him…and she didn't wonder that Angel's anger and her emerging, shamefaced, with Collins might add up in people's minds to a not-so-wonderful conclusion.

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It was 3:00 a.m. that night when Angel heard the front door click open. She heard his footsteps on the floor, heard the door close and the thumps as he shed his shoes and coat. Then more footsteps, muffled now on the carpet and minus the clump of his boots, and a _whump_ as he fell onto the couch. He wasn't moving around. She had to do it now.

Angel took one deep breath; just one. Then, uncurling from her cramped position on the bedroom floor and walking over to the night table beside the bed, she withdrew a flat white envelope from the lowest drawer. Tucking it into the back pocket of the jeans she'd be wearing since that morning, she steeled herself and trudged out into the living room.

Collins was sprawled on the couch, his eyes closed and his head resting on the arm. One hand was clasped to his forehead and the other was gently massaging his throat. He had very large bags under his eyes. He looked horrible.

"You're…you're back," she said softly. Collins started and looked around blearily, only catching sight of her after a moment of confusion. He stiffened as his eyes traveled up to her face, and she saw something flash through his eyes. Collins swung his legs off the couch and sat up, though he did not stand. Angel tried not to think about what she was going to say. That would only make it all hurt worse.

"I didn't know if you would…come back, I mean," she went on uncertainly. Collins's face was unreadable as he looked up at her.

"Yeah, well…I'm back, like it or not," he said levelly. Angel knew she deserved that and more, yet she felt stung. Taking another breath, she let one hand wander to the envelope in her back pocket.

"Collins, I wanted…there's something I wanted to show you—"

"You could have done that before picking a fight with me in an alley," he interrupted. Angel didn't know how to reply. She fell silent for another few seconds, then tried again.

"I guess so, but I couldn't think—I wasn't sure what to do about it and I got so…I don't know, but I wasn't acting like me, I knew how I was acting and I wanted to stop…"

"It's a lot of use to say that now," Collins said almost coldly. Angel closed her mouth. Nothing was coming out right and he just seemed to be getting angrier. Her fingers closed over the envelope and she started to pull it out, but before she could Collins got abruptly to his feet. She stumbled backwards, caught off guard by his quick movement.

"I wasn't thinking you were with someone else last night," he said softly. His warm brown face, so familiar and so dear to her heart, looked more pained than she had ever seen it before. "I wasn't accusing you of anything. I was going to ask you if you'd needed time alone…if whatever was bothering you was something you needed to think about without my help. I was going to offer to spend the day away from you if you wanted more time by yourself. I was trying to understand, I wasn't throwing accusations in your face."

"You…what?" Angel asked stupidly, forgetting the envelope for a moment, forgetting anything but the cruel words she had shot at him earlier. There was a knot in her chest, growing steadily tighter. It made it hard for her to breathe.

"I don't say things I don't mean, Angel. You should know that by now," he said, his voice still quiet. The knot tightened a little more. Something flickered through his eyes, something she was afraid of. "So tell me…did you say things you didn't mean? Or was that just the truth coming out for once?"

And then she couldn't take it anymore. Grabbing the envelope from her pocket, she practically threw it at his chest, taking savage pleasure in the way his eyes grew large and he nearly fell backwards as he bent to avoid getting hit with the envelope. Regaining his balance and holding the white rectangle in his hands, he looked first at it, then at her, then back down at the envelope.

"Open it," Angel said shortly. With a curiosity he could not fully hide, Collins opened the already-broken seal and drew out a thin packet of typed, folded paper. His eyes scanned the top page, first narrowed in confusion and then widening as he recognized what he was reading. She followed the progress of his eyes, watching as they skimmed down the page, finally reaching the bottom and then fixing, inevitably, on the figures in the little black-lined box. Angel felt a mixture of pain, grief, relief, and something weirdly close to happiness as his eyes widened even farther, growing so large that they practically took up his entire face. Now he knew. He finally knew.

For almost a full minute they stood there: Collins staring down at the paper and Angel watching him stare. Then finally he looked up at her, a million questions that were probably all the same one in his eyes and on his lips. She spoke before he could ask them.

"I was at the free clinic yesterday, that's why I was so late getting home. The doctor took so much longer with my T-cell count…I had to try not to laugh when he actually told me. I mean, I feel fine, I thought he was joking. But then he said the 'get your affairs in order' line…why do they say that? It doesn't do anything but make you want to punch them…" She laughed hoarsely, a laugh with no amusement. Collins said nothing, only watched her as she tried to think of what to say next.

"The rest of that…it's all the technical stuff, like the information and all that crap. I had to stay even later so they could do tests. And they…they found PCP. Early, but they found it in my lungs." Angel's hand rose up and brushed against the fabric of her tank top that fell across her chest; she did it unconsciously, like it was a reflex.

"They gave me a prescription…I told them the only thing I'd been having trouble with was getting short of breath a bit—even though I never thought that was from…you know—and they wrote something down that'll help with that. It's not really expensive or anything, but…I just couldn't tell you. Every time I tried to look you in the eyes and say it, something just closed up and I couldn't. And today, when you pulled me down there and asked me…asked if I was okay, it just broke, everything in me broke and I was saying the most evil things and I couldn't fucking stop and then…" she trailed off, out of breath. Collins was still staring at her, his eyes slightly less wide but still large and white. Angel felt her heart racing in her ears.

"I can't make excuses," she whispered, her own words echoing in her head. "What I said…how I acted…I understand if you don't want to deal with that anymore—if you don't want to deal with me anymore." She took a step backwards, feeling strangely numb and small in the suddenly very large room. "I understand if…if we're done," she finished. Her hands were shaking and she pressed them flat against her sides. Collins was once again unreadable.

She felt a thrill of despair. He could not forgive her. She had gone too far.

And then Angel's mind blanked, went completely and utterly transparent as he kissed her: he kissed her like he had never kissed her before, with so much passion and love and want that it made warmth shoot through every inch of her body. Her head bent back and her arms wavered in the air, sort of bouncing clumsily off his forearms and then settling around his neck, pulling him closer and closer, pulling him into her, so close…so beautiful…and his arms were encircling her waist, strong and firm, one hand flat against her spine and the other climbing slowly and tenderly up over her ribs, caressing the soft skin there and tracing the outlines of each bone…

It lasted for what felt like lifetimes, though it must have been less than a minute. But when they finally broke apart, it kept going: the kiss did not die with the separation of their lips, it went through both of their bodies like an electric current.

"You should have known I'd come back tonight," he whispered to her, his forehead resting on hers and his breath playing sweetly over her face. Angel could hardly hear him through the ring of ecstasy in her ears; yet something he said broke through.

"Wha…what?"

"You said you didn't know if I would come back. I'll always come back for you…no matter what happens to either of us, no matter what you say to me or I to you. I will always come back," he said, the last words muffled as he buried his face in her neck. Angel let him kiss her there for a few seconds, savoring his love on her skin. But then the feeling in her chest grew too great and she pulled him back to her mouth, kissing him with all the desire and love she had in her body. Love pulsed through her body like a second heartbeat, traveling to him through her mouth and tongue and arms and legs and any other part of her that was touching him. He pressed one hand to the short black hair on her head and forced her mouth towards his. Fuck AIDS, fuck PCP, fuck anything in the world other than this time, this moment: this was living for today and Angel would die a thousand times over if it could only go on forever.

Angel's legs went weak and buckled, but he held her up, still kissing her, still loving her. And then slowly Collins sank to the ground too, her body spreading out under his, hugging it like a puzzle piece with its mate…she tangled her legs around his hips and gasped as he kissed her collarbone. And they made love to each other as only a lucky few outside of books can, with love that was more than emotion and feeling, but a being, soft and sweet and beautiful…and their bodies joined together as the love wrapped around them and shut the world out.

The packet of papers fluttered underneath the couch and gathered dust until the morning.


End file.
